Игра престолов

Jon

           Jon’sbreathwentoutofhimasthefallentablecaughthimbetweenhisshoulderblades.Thesword,wherewasthesword?He’dlostthedamnedsword!Whenheopenedhismouthtoscream,thewightjammeditsblackcorpsefingersintoJon’smouth.Gagging,hetriedtoshoveitoff,butthedeadmanwastooheavy.Itshandforceditselffartherdownhisthroat,icycold,chokinghim.Itsfacewasagainsthisown,fillingtheworld.Frostcovereditseyes,sparklingblue.Jonrakedcoldfleshwithhisnailsandkickedatthething’slegs.Hetriedtobite,triedtopunch,triedtobreathe...

           Andsuddenlythecorpse’sweightwasgone,itsfingersrippedfromhisthroat.ItwasallJoncoulddotorollover,retchingandshaking.

           Ghosthaditagain.Hewatchedasthedirewolfburiedhisteethinthewight’sgutandbegantoripandtear.Hewatched,onlyhalfconscious,foralongmomentbeforehefinallyrememberedtolookforhissword......andsawLordMormont,nakedandgroggyfromsleep,standinginthedoorwaywithanoillampinhand.Gnawedandfingerless,thearmthrashedonthefloor,wrigglingtowardhim.

           Jontriedtoshout,buthisvoicewasgone.Staggeringtohisfeet,hekickedthearmawayandsnatchedthelampfromtheOldBear’sfingers.Theflameflickeredandalmostdied."Burn!"theravencawed."Burn,burn,burn!"

           Spinning,Jonsawthedrapeshe’drippedfromthewindow.Heflungthelampintothepuddledclothwithbothhands.Metalcrunched,glassshattered,oilspewed,andthehangingswentupinagreatwhooshofflame

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